


The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

by Sassaphrass



Series: Burn your kingdom Down [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Kon has no idea what he's getting into, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Politics, Rebellion, Revolutionaries, Revolutions are rarely clean and tidy, The Power of Journalism, Tim is a genius and also terrifying, that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassaphrass/pseuds/Sassaphrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Final Installment of the Batman/Hunger Games AU: </p><p>The Victors of Gotham are plotting Rebellion, but they aren't the only ones who believe the world should change. </p><p>With the situation escalating Tim and Dick find themselves trapped in the Capitol, as events spin beyond their control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kon L.

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Some references to prostitution and to past Rape/Non-con.

Kon ducks through the crowded street and tries to keep his head down. Tim told him it was irrational. No one could tell what he was by looking at him, and thanks to the defect in his gene cocktail he was never going to age enough to bear more than a passing resemblance to his genetic-template. So he goes by Kon L. and leaves it at that and pretends to be normal.

 

Kon lives in a part of town that is considered rough by Capitol standards. It's cramped and crowded with hardly any room to breathe. Kon's own apartment consists of all of 2 rooms with barely enough room to stand between the furniture.

 

But, Kon, unlike the majority of other citizens of the Capitol, has been out of it. He'd seen District 11 and knew that what passed for squalor here is luxury out there. So he never complained about his lot in life, even if the streets were more and more dangerous lately. Besides, he could move out anytime he wanted, there were provisions for him in the Luthor estate, he just liked it better around the rough types. They tended to be less judgemental about Kon's...origins.

 

Being a muttation wasn't exactly....It wasn't like people discriminated, it was just that people tended to freak out when they learned that you were really only 7 years old but looked like you were 16 and had for your entire life.

 

Fucking Lex and his pathological need to be weird about Clark. Like, why? Kon could sort of see the appeal of Clark but, he didn't see how it got to the point where you'd obsessively monitor his every move and steal his hair follicles in order to grow yourself a mini-Clark.

 

Lex was usually so terrifyingly pragmatic about everything else. The Clark thing simply boggled the mind.

 

Kon looks up at the screens posted on the street. Richard Grayson smiles his dreamboat smile on the arm of his very tall very orange girlfriend before flitting out of frame.

 

Suddenly there is a cool hand in his own. Kon turns to smile at Tim.

 

Tim, as always, looks out of place on the bustling Capitol street. Not only is he unfashionably Gotham-pale, and unmade up but his clothing is sombre and simple- the cut of it is superb, and made him look like a black clad knife cutting through the crowd of over dressed Capitolites. It is the lead up to the Games, people were excited and it was reflected in the elaborate nature of their clothing. There will be a reaping soon.

 

Tim quirks the corners of his mouth- the most extreme display of public emotion Kon could ever expect from Tim if he wasn't bleeding, drop down drunk, or deeply deeply deeply sleep deprived.

 

Kon jerks his head back towards his apartment. Tim nods.

 

Once inside Tim vaults rather dramatically onto the bed.

 

Kon stands awkwardly by the door. “So... things in Gotham haven't improved?” he asks.

 

Tim lies facedown on the bed. “Damian is going through puberty. It is hell. Hell. He has a crush on my ex-girlfriend of all people, and may also be dating a petty criminal, no ones sure and we're all too afraid to ask. Except Dick, who probably knows but has got some sort of code about it.”

 

 

Kon smiles at his friend. “This may improve your mood.” he says and walks to the wall and hits the switch that slowly unfolded his work bench from where it folds up into the wall, revealing all the hidden drawers, cabinets and most importantly- the raw materials and equipment. Electronics, and Tech. The good stuff you can't get anywhere but the Capitol.

 

Tim gasps. “Oh, Kon. I adore you. You got the parts I asked for? No problems?”

 

“No one even blinked. The Luthor connection.”

 

Tim smiles. “Excellent.”

 

Kon pokes at something on the desk. “You going to work on stuff now?”

 

“Nah. I'm too tired from the trip. I'll get started tomorrow.”

 

“You're staying over?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Cool.”

 

It's a relief in a way to have Tim back in town for a while, even if it is a little odd to have him stay the night (odd but not unheard of). Tim usually spent the days with Kon and then slipped out at night to find his way back to the tribute centre.

 

Kon guesses that Tim's relaxed attitude is the result of Bruce Wayne staying in Gotham for this trip.

 

That man was rabidly protective of all the younger Victors from Gotham. It is terrifying mwhen it suddenly seems like an air-head partyboy is thinking of ripping your throat out.

 

The screen built into the wall flickers to life for the mandatory evening viewing. Kon collapses onto the bed next to Tim to watch. It was all the same meaningless shit, boring since nothing Games related had started yet.

 

Richard Grayson flits by again, the same smile, the same very tall very orange athlete next to him.

 

Kon can't help but make a face at it.

 

Tim of course notices. Tim notices everything.

 

“What?” Tim asks, suddenly looking much less relaxed than he had a moment before.

 

Kon answers without thinking: “Nothing, just sick to death of Richard Fucking Grayson is all. It's like just cause you've slept with half the Capitol doesn't make you interesting.”

 

 

Tim tenses next to him and sits up. “Don't ever talk about him like that.” He draws his knees up to his chest and leans his forehead against them. “You have no way of knowing this but Richard Fucking Grayson” he says the name with a bitter ironic twist. “is unbreakable. He's seen some shit and lived through some shit and he still comes out of it smiling and willing to hold the rest of us together.”

 

Kon stares at Tim in shock. Tim is usually a man of few words and fewer emotional displays.

 

“Alright I'm sorry.”

 

Tim makes as though he is going to lie back down but then he looks at Kon and his face suddenly twists in disgust and he sits up quickly again. “Sorry.” he murmurs covering his face with his hands. “I just forget sometimes how Capitol you are.”

 

“I am sorry Tim. I had no idea he meant so much to you.”

 

“It's not your fault. You couldn't know. As far as your concerned he's just the over-the-top brotherly older Victor I complain about who clogs up the broadcasts.”

 

“Well...yeah.”

 

Tim takes a deep shuddery breath and uncovers his face.

 

“I'm okay now. Sorry about that.”

 

“You sure?” Kon asks.

 

Tim nods and lies back down, cushioning his head on Kon's chest. “Yeah, I told you. I just... forget sometimes.”

 

 

Sharing the bed was nice. It is an unspoken truth between the two of them that they are each as desperately lonely as the other, though Tim at least had the strange family of District 3 Victors to keep him from being all alone.

 

That night Kon wakes up to someone opening the door to his apartment. Tim stirs at the sound.

 

A light clicks on and it takes Kon a moment to process what he is seeing.

 

A large man in an avox uniform is standing just inside Kon's doorway. As he watches the intruder slings a red peacekeepers helmet over his head in a single practiced motion.

 

Tim sits up blearily, but he seems neither alarmed nor surprised by the intruder.

 

“Red.” he says.

 

“Replacement.” came the reply from beneath the helmet.

 

The Avox produces a gun and gestures to Kon. “You want I should shoot him?” he asks.

 

Tim lunges to put himself between Kon and any potential bullets. “No! He's a friend.”

 

The man looks at the ceiling and sighs. “This is worse than Goldie.” he mutters to himself. He seems sad. “Look, B told me I'd find you with a client.”

 

Tim is tense a trip wire where he's sprawled across Kon's chest. “Fine, he's a client but it's not like that. He's never...done anything. Put the gun away.”

 

The Avox brandishes the gun again. “Are you sure? It wouldn't come back on you. Just ask Goldie.”

 

Tim grits his teeth. “Say what you want and get out Hood.”

 

Hood shrugs. “You got stuff for me yet?” he asks.

 

Tim scowls. “I just got here. It will take a few days at least.”

 

“Hmmm.” Red Hood sighs looking around the place. “This is a Capitol shithole. How can this twerp afford the fees?”

 

Tim squirms. Kon is frozen.

 

“His dad worries about him. Pays the for me to come 'round sometimes.” Tim finally blurts out.

 

“He's actually good people then?” Hood sounds surprised.

 

“Pretty good.”

 

“Anyone causes problems you tell me and I'll take care of it.”

 

Tim winces. “Yeah, I know. We all know. Your trail of bodies is legendary.”

 

Kon didn't know how he could tell, but Hood seems pleased by that.

 

“See you in a couple days, Replacement.” Red says as he headed out the door. He pulls the helmet off and shoves it into a bag before disappearing out onto the streets.

 

Kon turns to Tim. “Holy Shit.”

 

Tim shrugs. “You just had the pleasure of meeting the Red Hood. Gotham's fully fledged gang-lord and bloodiest freedom fighter.”

 

“What did he mean by-”

 

Tim cuts him off. “Just. Don't, please? Ask me tomorrow.”

 

Kon wanted to ask in the morning. He did. There were so many loose dangling ends. _B said I'd find you with a client. His father pays the fees. He never touched me like that._

 

 

It's all too horrible. Those questions lead to the sort of answers Kon's not sure he can handle. He doesn't know who he has if he doesn't have Tim. 

 

They met a year or so after Tim's Games. Kon was only a few months old and pretty rough around the edges still. Clark had introduced them at some event. At the time it had seemed like just another of the man's desperate attempts to get away from the muttation offspring that disgusted him, but now Kon can't help but wonder if he didn't genuinely see something in the pair of them that needed each other.

 

Tim had been nice and obviously intrigued by what it was like to be a muttation with the physical and mental development of a 16 year old but the life experience of a very samll child. It was also very obvious that, much like Kon, Tim expected to be disliked.

 

Their friendship existed in fits and starts. Meetings a few times a year. Occasional telephone calls. And long periods of nothing in between except what they said through messages sent over the underground illegal networks.

 

Somehow the friendship had become a touchstone. A safe port in the storm that Kon could trust. It wasn't like Clark, who'd learned to look past the violation which Kon's very existence represented and love him out of guilt. It wasn't like Lex who's paternal overtures stemmed from something closer to proprietary concern rather than love.

 

Kon does have other friends of course. There are a few other Capitol born children of Victors who form a loose society of half-hearted concern. Like a not particularly close extended family. There was Bart, the son fathered by district 9's second Victor when he was still a teenager, there were some snobby Career children, there had been the man who's mother had been a popular early victor in Four. The twins from 6, and on and on. Less than 20 total.

 

And then there's the would-be rebels and champagne fed resistors with whom Kon had some traction for being a living symbol of their disgust with the system- a human muttation made as the result of a billionaire's obsession with a forced participant in combat to the death. Real rebels won't come near him because of his connection to Lex Luthor, but the posers, the rich children of the elite loved to use him as a symbol of their rebellion.

 

He uses the underground when it suits him, but he's never like them. They all thought it would be better if he didn't exist, but he was glad he existed. He was so glad. He didn't care how he'd gotten there.

 

That left the genuine, if absent-minded, concern Clark's Capitol girlfriend occasionally showed him.

 

And Tim.

 

Tim who spends the next day entire bent over the bench in Kon's apartment tinkering away on a number of identical and practically microscopic pieces of tech. Kon has always like listening to Tim talk about his work. His 'talent' is electronic engineering but the stuff he showed the Capitol was nothing compared to what he did on the side.

 

 

_How could a twerp like that afford the fees?_

 

Kon just wishes he could forget what the man in the Red Hood had said.

 

_His father pays the fees._

 

 

Come to think of it, more than one of Tim's visits, particularly the surprise ones, were preceded by a matter of days by one of the deeply humiliating conversations Kon sometimes had with Lex.  _Are you alright? I hear you left another job, why? How are your friends?_

 

In the end despite how much Kon thinks he won't be able to live with what he's going to learn. He equally can't stand the uncertainty. 

 

“So what did he mean last night?”

 

“Which part?” Tim asks, setting down the tools precisely and turning on his stool to face Kon where he's lying on the bed. He's been waiting for this.

 

“About me being a client and my father paying the fees.”

 

Tim looks almost relieved.

 

“Lex worries about you. You know he keeps a close eye on you even if he doesn't actively bug your place.”

 

Kon nods.

 

“He knows we're friends too. So, sometimes, if he thinks you're lonely or down he pays the appropriate fees to the appropriate people so that I will by able to come from Gotham and visit you.”

 

“So, my father's been paying for you to be my friend.”

 

“NO!” Tim surprises Kon with his vehemence. He climbs up onto the bed. “We were friends, and sometime he pays to make sure we can stay friends.”

 

“If all he's paying for is friendship why did Red ask you if you wanted him to shoot me?”

 

Tim stares at Kon for a long moment. “Because your father is really paying for you to spend time with me and as a non-citizen there is no crime you could commit against me that would be prosecutable under law. Some people take advantage of that.”

 

Kon connects the dots almost immediately. Rape. Red Hood had been asking if Tim wanted him to put a bullet in Kon's brain for raping him.

 

“I'm going to be sick.” Kon gasps.

 

Tim pats his hand. “You know this stuff Kon. But don't worry, I'm perfectly safe most of the time.”

 

“I don't understand, surely this-....wait....who's Goldie?”

 

Goldie who Red Hood had killed for.

 

Tim looks uncomfortable. “It's Red's little code. He has nicknames for all us Gotham Victors. A is Alfred. B is Bruce. Replacement is me, Demon is Damian, Goddess of Death is Cass.”

 

“Making Goldie Richard Grayson-wait, he knows Richard Grayson?”

 

Tim laughs. “Of course he does.” Which doesn't make as much sense as Tim seems to think it does. But, okay.

 

“What did he mean about Goldie could tell you his shooting me wouldn't come back to you?”

 

Tim sighs. “Dick was raped- has been raped. Red Hood took it upon himself to kill his rapists. Everyone worked out pretty quickly that if you paid for time with Richard Grayson you were likely to find your brains spattered against the wall in the not too distant future. But Red covered his tracks well, the clients of Richard Grayson were just a few of the many targets. No one ever thought Dick had anything to do with it.”

 

 

“They...” he thinks of Richard Grayson's long strings of Capitol lovers. The way even years after he'd stopped coming except at the Games and the Victory Tour people still salivated over him on television. The way these days everyone clamoured to try and get a piece and if they tried too hard got beaten back by his brawny girlfriend.

 

“But they can't! They can't do that!!” Kon protests.

 

Tim has the same look on his face as last night: Disgust.

 

He gets up abruptly. “Don't be stupid Kon, of course they can” he yells and stands looking at the wall. “You KILL US and WATCH and CHEER.”

 

Kon closes his mouth with a click. They do talk sometimes about the state of the world. About the Capitol and the Districts, but when Tim talks about the problems it's always “Them” never “You”. He's never named Kon as numbering among his enemies.

 

Until now.

 

Kon doesn't protest though, because he knows that Tim is right. He's as much a Capitolite as anyone, more so even, born as he is from science and money, protected by the looming shadow of LuthorCorps and free to do as he pleases so long as he doesn't damage himself or try to run away.

 

Kon's never known hunger, or real fear. He's never been powerless and as much as he'd never ever admit it to Tim, there have been Games where he's cheered as loud as anybody.

 

Tim looks at the tiny electronics on the desk. “I need to finish these. I'll go when I'm done.”

And he does. He works all through the night and then very quietly and politely ask. “Do you have a bag I can use?”

 

Kon nods and gets a resealable bag. Tim smiles when he thanks him for it but he still leaves.

 

Kon sits silently on the bed. He feels like someone kicked him in the face. Or the heart. And the person he'd normally talk to about that sort of thing just left. He wishes he was like Clark and he could find the right words easily.

 

But, Clark is back in 11. Kon's between righteous counterculture Capitolite groups and the chidren of Victors either already know about this or shouldn't have to.

 

Who does that leave?

 

 

 

 

 

Tim goes to Dick's place, making sure to poke himself in the eye a few times on route in order to look properly distressed when he gets there.

 

As far as the Capitol knew the rift between Gotham's Victors had been deep and dramatic. Tim wouldn't visit Dick for just anything.

 

Dick's girlfriend opens the door and this is the first time Tim's seen her in person. Jeez she is very very orange isn't she? And...Tim's gaze strays down her body before jerking back up to meet her very green eyes, nearly naked.

 

He waves a little. “Hi? I'm Tim.”

 

She breaks out in a grin to rival Dick at his most exuberant and ushers him inside.

 

She practically throws him onto the couch. “I will get Richard.” she declares.

 

The room is strange. Everything is soft and jewel toned, and swathed or draped in beautiful fabrics. It's not the Capitol aesthetic at all.

 

Dick comes in a moment later and kisses his girlfriend at length before he sits down and she disappears into another room.

 

Dick takes in Tim's distraught appearance.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Hood broke in to Kon's apartment.”

 

“Oh no.”

 

“And offered to shoot him.”

 

“Oh no!”

 

“and then blabbed about Lex paying for my visits.”

 

“OH no!”

 

“So, now Kon knows all about the prostitution of Victors.”

 

“OH NO!!!!”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How did he take it?”

 

“As well as could be expected.”

 

“Did he get mad?”

 

“He got sad.”

 

“I'm really sorry Timmy. I understand it's really hard to connect with people in our situation and he really important to you.”

 

Tim kept himself from glaring at Dick, but only just, because Dick didn't understand the crushing uncertainty and awkwardness Tim felt when he tried to talk to people on the outside, people who didn't fully understand, who couldn't fully understand, the price Victors had to pay.

 

Dick did backflips off the Tribute Centre so he could bounce off the forcefield. He once kissed Caesar Flickerman on live television without the slightest embarrassment (and Caesar Flickerman was old). He taught baby assasins how to feel using the power of love and friendship.

 

Dick understood a lot of things. Way more than most people gave him credit for, but he didn't understand what it was to stand in front of a group of people and feel shy. To not think that anybody would really like you if they knew you.

 

Tim casually puts the bag of electronics on the ground by the foot of the couch. “Well, he'll get what's coming to him.” he growls with a significant glance at the (now mostly hidden) bag. Dick's place probably isn't bugged but they need to be careful.

 

Dick follows his eyes and smiled. “One day the Capitol will catch him and justice will be served. And won't that be a lovely day?”

 

Tim returns the smile, trying not to show how upset he really was.

 

It would be a lovely day when justice was served.

 

He stands to go, leaving the electronics behind. “I was just too upset to go back to the Tribute Centre right away.”

 

Dick catches Tim in a hug. “I understand. Be careful out there. Things are getting restless.”

 

Tim nods and head back out into the street.

 

Dick picks up the bag Tim had left and carefully stashes it.

 

 

The next evening Richard Grayson is the date of Melodia Alveron, one of the foremost members of the military stationed in the Capitol.

 

She is very pleased to have her invitation accepted. Grayson's move to the Capitol had had many people abandoning old fears about grisly murders and hoping the old system would once more be in place and they could pay for whatever they wanted. But,

 

The rules were different now. Grayson was apparently more than happy to whore around the Capitol to spite Bruce Wayne, and this cooperation had bought the Victor greater freedom and security.

 

Grayson is, apparently, choosing his own dates these days and the pretty little idiot was turning down anyone who might be 'boring'. You weren't guaranteed sex these days and the rule was to let Grayson initiate it. And there were no guarantees his ultimate fighter muttation of a girlfriend wouldn't crash the party and cause a scene.

 

Nevertheless, the benefits outway the costs as far as Melodia is concerned.

 

Richard Grayson is dressed to seduce, and it makes Melodia's mouth water. He is more modest than he had been back in his heyday (and oh Apolla had wanted to buy him then but she hadn't been able to afford to, and then of course heads had started to roll rather literally), but still showed enough skin that she felt she was getting her money's worth.

 

He smiles at her and his teeth are perfect, and his skin is gold and his eyes are wicked.

 

He leans across the table and meets her gaze and earnestly asks if it's true that she's a pilot. He'd been so intrigued by someone who could really fly.

 

She laughs in his face. She can't help it, it's funny how little he knows.

 

She doesn't just have one plane. She manages the entire fleet- nearly 20 planes based out of the Capitol.

 

He pretends not to believe her but it's obviously an act. She offers to show him and he lights up like a Christmas tree. No wonder he'd been so popular if he's that easy.

 

He's obviously never seen anything like the hovercraft before. The ones they use in the Games aren't anything like these.

 

He dances lightfooted around them, weaving in and out of the lines of plane, laughing as she tries to catch him and finally letting her grab him and push him up against one to kiss him as filthily as she knows how.

 

Then there's an awkwardly cleared throat and a night guard beet red with embarrassment trying to professionally ask them to move along.

 

They go back to the bar and Apolla's hoping for some time alone in a back room but then Richard's very large and brawny (and oh so fashionably orange) girlfriend shows up and makes a scene dragging him away by the arm. He meets Melodia's eyes and mimes a tear before blowing her a kiss and mouthing “See you again?”

 

Apolla grins back at him. He's dumb as a post but damn pretty. And so many people saw her with him!

 

It was worth the money she decides. Definitely worth the money.

 

 

 

 

Kon is glad Lois agreed to meet him. She is really the only person he had like family in the Capitol.

 

The coffee shop is crowded and bustling, located as it is in a much nicer part of the city than Kon usually frequents. Everyone is talking about the lead up to the Games, some are even whispering about problems in the Districts or the tensions between LuthorCorps and the current administration.

 

Kon spots Lois sitting near the window and makes his way over to her. She looks up and smiles at him.

It's a relief.

 

Lois has been Clark's on-again-off-again Capitol girlfriend for as long as Kon's been alive. She took his...birth much better than Clark ever had, though Kon hadn't seen her much since her relationship with Clark had gotten stuck on “Off” last year when she published a story about-come to think of it- Richard Grayson that Clark had not approved of.

 

“Sweetheart!” She says with a smile. She stands to hug him and wobbles a bit on her too high heels. She's wearing some over the top couture getup- no doubt coming from or going to an interview.

 

“I was surprised that you called me.” She says conspiratorially over a glass of something milky and frothy (and, knowing Lois, with the alcohol content to drop an ox). “I thought you were firmly 'Team Clark' in the break-up.”

 

Kon shrugs. “Clark's not here. You are. You've always been here.”

 

Lois reaches up (a precarious business in those shoes) and kissed Kon on the cheek. “How did you get so sweet, huh? Must be Lex Luthor, god knows Clark isn't.”

 

Kon laughs.

 

“So, tell Auntie Lois what's the matter.” she say sitting back down, with a sharp glance over the rim of her drink.

 

“I...I learned something about Tim, that's been upsetting me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Off the record?”

 

Lois pretends to pout. “Fine.”

 

“Lex has been paying for Tim to come see me.”

 

Kon would have appreciated it if Lois had at least pretended to be a little shocked by this revelation. He knew it was pretty difficult to shock Lois, a Capitol journalist with high morals tended to have an excellent poker face.

 

She winces. “I was worried he might be.”

 

“WHAT?!” Kon bellows making everyone in the shop turn and glare at him.

 

Lois winces again. “I've been piecing things together for years now. From Clark, from staff, from rumours.”

 

Kon gives Lois a deadpan stare. “And you wonder why people took his side in the breakup.”

 

Lois shrugs. “The foundation of our nation's values and ideas is built on a lie. I think that matters.”

 

“Before you ask: I'm not commenting for your piece.”

 

Lois smiles softly at him. “Don't worry sweetie, I've got plenty without you. Now. How did you leave things with Tim?”

 

Kon sighs and leans over to give her the rundown on what he'd learned.

 

She commiserates wonderfully. Kon leaves the café feeling better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dick stretches and sighs. Kori glares at him. He ignores her. Jason is late.

 

They are waiting in the Tribute Centre. Dick hates it here but there are a number of Avox employed here, which makes it easier for Jason to get in, and it's one of the few places like that that Dick can plausibly visit without drawing attention to himseld.

 

Jason enters in full Avox uniform. Dick nods to the tray sitting on the counter and then walks with Kori to the roof, talking all the way about how, despite the wind, the view up there was to die for. Jason follows holding the tray of drinks.

 

Once they get up to the on roof, the only place in the building safe from bugs, Jason pulls out the pieces of his cheaper voice rig and assembles them.

 

“well?” he asks.

 

“The Capitol's definitely ramping up for something. There's 6 new Hovercraft, military grade. Couldn't possibly be for anything but an offensive against the districts or the Capitol. I drew a map of the facility, it's on the tray . Plus, all the codes I could get. Tim hacked the schematics of the hovercraft, there on the datachip plus, very very clear instructions of exactly where you need to plan Tim's devices.” Dick answers.

 

“i'm not stupid.” Jason protests.

 

Dick makes a face, and looks at Kori who pulled the bag Tim had left with them out of her puffy skirt before tossing them to Jason.

 

“Just, follow the instructions and you can ground the fleet.” Dick growls. “ These devices will only activate if they try and take off. That way the Capitol won't know their fleet is grounded until it's too late. Then we'll have a chance.”

 

Jason grins and gives a mock salute.  
  


“Now that business is out of the way, why'd you have to go and mess with Timmy?” Dick demands.

 

Jason shares a look with Kori. Dick may have met her first but Jason's come to realize that her values are more in line with his visions of blood in streets and righteous vengeance than with Dick's hopes of peaceful resolution and negotiation. She may be Dick's girlfriend but she's on Jason's side.

 

“Why did you have to go and be an escort again?” she asks.

 

Dick grits his teeth. “The Capitol's fleet is the single biggest obstacle to out emancipation from the Capitol. They could charbroil us all in our beds with firebombs and you think we have the luxury of being sqeamish right now? ?”

 

“i'm squeamish because you have a terrible track record with saying 'no' if someone pushes it.” Jason retorts.

 

Kori nods at that looking sad. Dick shoots her a glare and hisses. “Traitor.” but she seems unrepentant.

 

Jason continues. “we worry you'll let yourself get hurt for something you think is more important.”

 

“This is the Hunger Games Jason. This is being whored out as a teenaged and forced to help little kids accept that they are doomed.” Dick whispers. “It _is_ worth it if it comes to that, but it hasn't yet and it won't.”

 

Jason shakes his head.

 

“Besides.” Dick continues. “I can handle it.”

 

Jason steps up close. “don't make me bring up things both of us would rather forget.”

 

Dick laughs. “Contrary to what everyone around me seems to think: I can look after myself.”

 

Jason snorts and looks extremely unconvinced.

 

Dick scowls at him. “Leave Tim alone unless it's actually related to the cause. He doesn't need your bullshit Jay.”

 

He whirled and pointed to Kori. “And you can go straight to fucking hell. We're done here.” He digs into his pocket and hurls something none too gently at Jason's head. Jason ducks and grabs it out of the air.

 

It's a heavy gold necklace set with gems in the electric blue colour Dick used to favour. “Sell it for your cause- people won't seem to accept I don't wear that colour anymore.” Dick snarls.

 

Jason wants to throw his idiot brother off the building. Not readopting his old Capitol styles has been the man's sole open act of defiance against the regime. A stupid empty gesture from the Bruce Wayne school of tactics. Of course people have been trying to crush even this tiny act of rebellion.

 

Before Jason can try and actually throw Dick off the building he's gone. Disappeared down the stairs and heading for the street.

 

 

 

 

Dick stalks out of the Tribute Centre. His com buzzes. He answers in a bubbly, but slightly drunken voice. “Heya!”

 

“Hi, Richard, it's Melodia. I wondered if that girlfriend of yours was still an issue?”

 

Dick grins. “Not anymore, whereare ya? I'll come and meet you.”

 

 

 

 

Tim sighs. He's completed his work for Jason, and has to trust Dick would get them to him.

 

He'd been hoping to spend time with Kon, but it hasn't quite worked up the courage to head back to his place yet.

 

So he is walking alone at night and enjoying the novelty of being able to do so without being in fear of his life. Tim loved Gotham in a way that he knew what pretty weird considering it was Gotham but he did enjoy being able to wander about in the dark without having to use combat training for survival.

 

Hi phone buzzes and he picks up. “Hey, Dick.”

 

“Tim, are you out?” Tim stops in the street. Dick sounds...off.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Get inside. Get inside now.” He sounds tense and serious. The way he did sometimes over the coms when they used to go out in costumes to fight crimes and they'd find something awful which they would silently agree never to tell anyone about.

 

“What-”

 

“Don't go to the Tribute Centre whatever you do. Get to Kon if you can. If you can't just get off the streets.”

 

Tim looks around. He's in one of the nicer parts of the Capitol, big apartments, not far from the Tribute Centre. If he needs to get off the streets now, than he's not sure where he can go.

 

Tim nods. This isn't the time to ask questions. “Understood. What about you?”

 

There's a pause Dick starts to say something and then the line explodes in static at the same time as all the public screens do. .

 

The people around him look concerned. Tim has a feeling. The corner of a larger picture.

 

Shit, where can he go? Well, there's only one place really. People are concerned but not panicking. Tim should walk calmly to his destination.

 

Aw, fuck it. He's not going to risk getting caught in the open if it's as bad as Dick seems to fear, and it must be pretty bad because unlike some people (Jason, Damian and Bruce) Dick does not tend to over state the direness of a situation.


	2. Lex Luthor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a coup d'état and the Victors of Gotham are caught in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of past rape, discussion of forced prostitution, and actual prostitution/bartering of sexual favours for political protection
> 
> Basically there's a bit where Dick is reflecting on the period where he was forced into prostitution.

Kon jumps when the television on his wall explodes in static. _That_ has never happened before. The screens always run, it's fucking annoying but also kind of like, the one thing you can absolutely completely rely on in a world where it turns out your not-dad has been paying to have your best friend be best friends with you and it turns out everyone else knew but you.

 

Kon groans and flops backwards onto his bed. The desk is still folded down, all of Tim's tools carefully arranged on it. There's even something half finished beneath the magnifying glass. Kon sighs. He wishes Tim would come back. Even if it wasn't real, he just wishes he'd come back.

 

His com rings. Kon answers, surprised the private calls are still working when the main screens have gone down.

 

“Conner?” It's Lex. Only Lex calls him Conner.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Is your friend with you?”

 

He must mean Tim, Kon thinks.

 

“No...?”

 

“Oh, that's a bit of a problem. Did he say where he was going?” Lex sounds mildly annoyed. As though he's misplaced his keys.

 

“No...?”

 

“Very well, my private security will be at your apartment momentarily, if the situation escalates they may decide to take you to a more secure location. You're not to make a fuss over it, is that undestood?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Good.” Kon can hear the smug smile in Lex's voice. “Exciting things are happening son. Soon- just you wait and see.”

 

Kon is about to ask Lex what the hell he's been smoking but there's a knock on the door and then Lex has hung up.

 

Reluctantly, Kon opens the door and let's the private security of LuthorCorps file into his apartment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tim pounds furiously on the door. Eventually a very thin Avox opens it and he barrels inside.

 

Ra's is sitting in a chair in the darkened living room, looking out over the city. He's wearing one of his stupid green capes.

 

“Ah, Timothy Drake-Wayne. I was wondering if you'd come here.”

 

“What's happening?” Tim demands.

 

Ra's shrugs. “I have no idea. I thought it might be Bruce's little social club. But, judging by your reaction it's not. It's inevitable, though. March hasn't had a good grip on things in years. Wise of you to get off the streets.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Damian looks up with a jerk when the screen in the living room dissolves into static. They're all frozen staring at the screen.

 

Bruce looks at Alfred. “Do you remember it ever....?”

 

Alfred shakes his head. His movement and expression tight with terror.

 

Damian glares at the screen.   
  


“What are you talking about?” he snarls.

 

“Something must be happening in the Capitol.” Bruce says slowly.

 

Damian stares at him open mouthed. “In the Capitol? But nothing ever happens there....”

 

Alfred and Bruce exchange looks. “There have been rumours about March for months now. The riots during the last Games here hurt him badly.” Bruce says, his voice suddenly as cold and efficiently detached as ever. “Someone must have made a move against him.”

 

Damian is still staring at the static of the screen. “Dick is in the Capitol, and Tim and...” he trails off. They don't say Jason's name but he knows that everyone in the room is finishing the sentence for him.

 

Bruce flicks his eyes to Damian. “Go run and get Cassandra. I don't care what her feelings are on the matter. She's staying here until we know what this is.”

 

Damian nods and heads out, pretending he doesn't realize they're just waiting to get him out of the room before they talk about what truly might be happening in the Capitol.

 

 

 

They sit in silent fear all night.

 

There's not a sound in the streets and no one lights up the Bat symbol in any windows or spotlights.

 

The entire country is holding it's breath waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

 

 

In the morning, the screens turn on just long enough for Luthor to appear and calmly state that he will be taking over the government of the country. Everyone and everything is in lock-down until further notice. Martial law is in place in the Capitol.

 

Bruce clenches his jaw and Damian gets out all his knives and swords and starts polishing and sharpening them. Cass helps.

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Grayson looks quite nervous when they bring him in, but relaxes noticeably when he sees Lex.

 

“So, you're the one behind all this.” he says as he sits down and his voice is full of relief. “Thank God.”

 

Lex Luthor smiles at him. He's always, and against his better judgement, _liked_ Richard Grayson whenever he was reminded of the man's existence.

 

Lex eyes the way that the young man is sitting and wonders if he's perhaps less confident in Lex's friendship than he had acted. He's arranged himself in a way that seems designed to seduce.

 

But, then again seduction has been Grayson's trade for so long, maybe he doesn't even know he's doing it.

 

Lex is unmoved by the famous beauty of Richard Grayson. It's just never interested him. The more infamous Grayson charm, he is less unmoved by.

 

There have been dozens of beautiful Victor's (and not a single ugly one which is no coincidence), and the Capitol has never fallen in love with any of them the way it fell in love with Richard Grayson. Lex can't help but scoff at the stupidity of people who attribute that solely to the boy's looks. People would be far less interested in them if they didn't happen to be wrapped around Richard Grayson's brain with his charm and smiles and easy way of being. That was what people were really seduced by.

 

Lex does not really respect Grayson- certainly didn't admire him, but he can appreciate the man. He was one of the least annoying people Lex ran into regularly at the parties he attended for appearance's sake and for other less savory purposes. Richard Grayson was neither infuriatingly out of touch with reality the way most Capitolites are, or bitter and broken the way most Victor's are, or seething with the unfairness of the world like everyone else from the Districts.

 

Instead, Grayson gave off the sense of being absolutely content with his lot in life, and perfectly prepared to take whatever else came his way with the same aplomb.

 

It was a bit like being around a houseplant or a very well-behaved dog. A pleasant enough interaction that required absolutely no effort on Lex's part.

 

Richard Grayson had a knack for appearing avidly interested in whatever you wanted to talk about and asking the right questions, even if the man himself had all the deeper substance of a wet napkin. But, he was a survivor of the first order, with no greater ambition than to live in safety and relative comfort. Grayson's principles shifted with his circumstances. He was a pragmatic fellow- Lex's sort of person. A person Lex planned to put to good use.

 

“Yes,” Lex says in response to the younger man's question. “President March is in custody and should be dead within the hour. I will be the new President.”

 

“Oh! Should I be calling you President Luthor then?” Grayson says with a conspiratorial smile.

 

“Given our history and shared friends you may continue to call me Lex.”

 

Grayson looks genuinely and deeply pleased by this.

 

Lex steeples his fingers. “There is a reason that I have brought you here.”

 

The smile slide's off Grayson's face.

 

“It is because I believe that you might share some of my beliefs.”

 

“I don't have beliefs.” Grayson grumbles. “I just keep on living and let the politics pass me by.”

 

“I know. Which is why I believe you may understand my point of view- I want as little violence in this transition as possible.”

 

“A Noble goal.”

 

Lex feels almost sorry for what he is about to ask. Grayson is nothing to him but he knows that Clark is fond of him. And Lex has never really enjoyed cruelty, and he's empathetic enough to know that this is a cruel thing to ask.

 

“Unfortunately, though the military stationed in the Capitol and majority of Districts are amenable to this transition, the Commander of District 2, the main military force in our country has proven less amenable to change than I had hoped.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Lex can see that Richard now knows what he will be asked to do, but he's going to make Lex say it. He's not going to let him off easy.

 

“He is threatening to make things difficult, which would result in unnecessary loss of life- on all sides. Commander Midnight will arrive in the Capitol tomorrow to discuss his position, and  I'm sure I'll bring him around to my way of thinking with little difficulty.”

 

And that is precisely what has Lex so impatient. It would be one thing if the Commander of 2's Military actually had some sort of loyalty or principles that opposed the deposition of President's through murder, or which had supported March's regime. But he didn't. Lex knew that he was just wanting to be bribed and while Lex was quite willing to bribe to smooth the way he disliked this like titch throwing his weight around, and making ridiculous demands.

 

As soon as things were settled Lex would have him killed, but first he needed to ensure that the military in District 2 went nowhere and did nothing until Lex was good and ready for them.

 

Clark would be angry with him, but then Clark hadn't stopped being angry with him since the first time he'd had to go to a reaping and Lex hadn't- back in the days when Lionel Luthor had been governor of District 11 and Lex had had such things as friends. Of course that had all ended when Lionel Luthor chose the wrong side and his family ended up on the streets of the Capitol with nothing but their lives.

 

“I want to say that I know what the previous administration did to you. What they've done to your family. How they drove Jason Todd to suicide, even if no one will admit to that.” Luthor continues. “Many consider March's mishandling of that situation to be the moment he proved himself unworthy for the Presidency. I don't ask this lightly.”

 

Grayson nods sharply. He looks sad at the mention of Jason Todd, and resigned to his own fate already.

 

“So, I will promise you that if you spend the night with the Commander Midnighter from District 2; if you do that as a favour for me: you will be safe. Your people will be safe.” Lex forces a chuckle. “After all prostitution was never a really efficient use of your various talents.”

 

Grayson licks his lips. He looks uncertain. “Even Bruce?” he asks quietly.

 

Lex smiles. He had wondered whether the rift between those two was a deep as it seemed. “Yes, even Bruce Wayne will be off the market. That will be a first in nearly 20 years.”

 

Grayson nods sharply and smiles a sultry sort of smile. “Seems I get the better end of this deal.”

 

Lex shrugs and leans back in his chair. “Like I said. I have better things to do with Victors than sell them for sex.”

 

Richard Grayson's smile turns into something more genuine. “Bruce told me what you did for Clark. It was good of you.”

 

“He asked me to do that for you once. Clark did, that is.”

 

“But you didn't.”

 

“No. It wouldn't have been a good investment. Far too high a price for no reward.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Now, I'm setting the prices and I'll be getting something valuable in return. I can afford to be generous.”

 

Grayson stands up with fluid grace, he stalks over to where Lex is sitting and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you, Lex.” He says earnestly, meeting Lex's eye.

 

“Thank you Mr. Grayson.” Lex replies.

 

Grayson grins at that before he flouces out. Lex smiles to himself.

 

He always has liked Richard Grayson. Seems it was good sense to after all.

 

By the day after tomorrow it will be all over. Midnighter will have had his final bribe, and Lex will be well on his way to fixing this country.

 

 

 

 

 

It's all Bruce can do not to smash the screen. They're all there. All the secret alliances and treaties and agreements laid bare before him and it's not doing any good at all.

 

Queen the Capitolite. Clark from Eleven, Barry from 9, the Atlantean King Arthur Curry using a pirated wavelength he's stealing from 4, Diana Prince from District 13 (what was left of it), and on and on.

 

“I don't care what your personal opinions about the man are!!” Bruce roars. “He's always been sympathetic to Clark, so we should have him negotiate on our behalf-”

 

“That would put Clark in danger! Luthor has always-” the woman from 5 argues.

 

“And how is it different from what you've asked my son to do? Hmm?” Bruce bites out. “He's trapped in there because you wanted him to spy for you.”

 

“He's not trapped- we don't know what's happening-” Clark protests. Ever the reasonable one.

 

“Exactly!!! Clark, Luthor will take your call you know he will. This is an oppurtunity to avoid bloodshed.”

 

“It's an oppurtunity to take advantage of a weakened system.” The Amazon from 13 counters. “We need to be aggressive.”

 

“NO!! War is not the answer now, we can work to rebuild the system from within with less loss of life-”

 

“War is the only way the system can be changed!” she screams back and Bruce sits down and pinches the bridge of his nose. He is not having this argument again.

 

“I'm simply saying we shouldn't discount the possibility of making on ally of the new President- yet, something which would have a greater possibility of succeeding if Clark would be willing to make an overture to the man that's been following him around like a 12 year old in love for the last 20 years.”

 

Barry and Oliver both stifle laughs at that.

 

They're reaching the end of the time limit. They can only guarantee the security of the connection for relatively short periods of time.

 

One by one they all sign off until it's just Bruce and Clark. “It's no more than I'd do myself or ask any of my children to do.” Bruce reminds Clark who scowls and signs off without a word.

 

Bruce sighs and leans on the table in front of the screen. He's down in the cave, which hasn't seen much use lately. Things are tense. It's too dangerous to go out. Well, too dangerous for the kids and he knows that if he goes out that only leaves Alfred to try and prevent them and Alfred is a notoriously soft touch when it comes to children (exhibit A: he let his ward cultivate a vigilante persona instead of forcing to attend therapy).

 

Bruce turns and is surprised to see Damian sitting on the steps leading down from the abandoned Wayne Mansion. He's in uniform with his arms around his dog.

 

It's sort of funny. The last year hasn't exactly been kind to Damian, and that's without even considering what the Games did to him. He's shot up like a weed, eats like a horse, and is skinny as hell. He also found a pimple the other day and damn near had a heart attack over it. He looks as gangly and awkward as the Great Dane he's hugging.

 

His Robin uniform seems almost too young for him these days. They'll have to update it when they get the chance.

 

Damian cocks his head at his father. “I've never understood it. You're preoccupation with maintaining this regime that is slowly killing us.”

 

“It's not about maintaining the regime, it's about avoiding violent revolution. It's all very well to want to tear down the Capitol but unless we have a viable system to replace it with than we'll end up with something worse. I'm not about to risk that needlessly.”

 

“24 children are publicly murdered every year, the districts are oppressed and half of them are starving. How could it be worse?!” Damian points out.

 

Bruce glares at his son. “All of them could be starving. There could be no security at all. Chaos, people gunning each other down in the streets, factions within factions all killing to try and get control... It could be much much worse Damian.”

 

Damian sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “You want to send Clark to negotiate with Luthor?”

 

Bruce nods. “Luthor has always been a reasonable man, and not interested in blood or death or cruelty for it's own sake. He might listen.”

 

“Tt. You'd strengthen his regime!!”

 

“Just enough that it won't crumble until we're good and ready. The problem with violently overthrowing the state is you need to be ready with somehting to fill the vaccum- that's what Jason fails to understand. I'm not going to die a hero or to live to see myself become the villain.  I'm going to live to see the end of the District System, I don't care how we get there so long as we get there.”

 

Damian looks as though he's carefully considering his father's words.

 

“That's all very well. But what about us now? My mother taught me to believe in vengeance.”

 

Bruce laughs. “Vengeance is the basest stupidity. You can't build anything with that- only dig a lot of graves.”

 

Damian almost smiles.

 

“Any word?” he asks solemnly nodding to the computer.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “Not even from Jason. No one's had a single transmission from the Capitol.”

 

“Do you think they're doing alright?” Damian asks.

 

“Probably, they're Victors.... who would go after them?.”

 

 

 

 

Infiltrating a military base during a coup which the military has unofficiall suportted but not officially endorsed is surprisingly easy. No one's sure what's supposed to be happening, people are taking sides and no one wants anyone doing anything silly.

 

They go in stealthily, only killing the guard on their entrance. Dick got them the passcodes to get in. Tim made a device that shorts out the buildings electricity which they activate once they're in. So, no cameras.

 

Jason hands out the devices Tim made. They've all gone over the blueprints, they know where they go.

 

Kori meets Jason's eyes. She's tried to dim the orange down with make-up but it hasn't really worked. It's not very helpful for missions like this, but she is. Second generation muttation. Stronger than average, faster, and most importantly able to withstand considerably higher temperature, just in case they need to resort to plan B.

 

They don't. It's smooth and easy. They plant the devices without anyone being the wiser. The military in the Capitol is concerned with crowd control right now, not the hovercraft fleet.

 

This little bit of sabotage should go undetected until they try and take off and discover and integral component of the computer system has been destroyed.

 

It's a manoeuvre that's risked all their lives and taken months to pull off but they've effectively levelled the playing field considerably in one night.

 

The Districts had the numbers and without their fleet it would be easy enough to cut the train tracks and the roads and leave the Capitol isolated. Well, except for Districts 1 and 2, which given that District 2 was the base of the country's military wasn't, you know, perfect.

 

But, long term this was still a win.

 

As the rest of the team melts back into the back alleys, Kori grabs Jason's arm. “Have you heard from Dick?” she whispers, the worry clear in her voice.

 

Jason shakes his head. “You?” he asks.

 

She shakes her head. “Do you think he really meant we were through?”

 

Jason shrugs. “He hasn't talked directly to Bruce in months because the man called him a whore. I think it's fair to guess he'd dump you for suggesting he's got issues with consent.”:

 

“I was worried about him.”

 

“Hey, I get it.... You know, it's always him. Bruce throws a punch or Capitol sending a mesage, or Damian having a flashback, it's always Dick who steps in front of it and pays for it.

 

Kori nods. She looks heartbroken. Jason awkwardly reaches out and pats her shoulder.

 

“Hey, he might forgive you. Then you'll be there this time to look after him.”

 

“You think he's alright?” She asks.

 

“Hey, remember: he can take care of himself.” Jason bites back bitterly.

 

She sends him a withering glare before taking off down one of the dark streets.

 

Jason sighs. He's wearing the helmet in public in the Capitol. He's half-tempted to go make a statement- string some Gamemaker up by his own intestines or something, but he's pretty sure Bruce and his merry band of allies would consider that a direct provocation and send someone to skin him. Not all of them are as pacifist as Brucie.

 

Jason sighs and shoots a grappling hook up onto a roof and swings away.

 

He'd like to patch things up with Dickie-boy and Tim but between what they've just done and whatever the hell is going on in the Presidential Palace he needs to get out of town and fast.

 

 

 

 

 

Tim sits quietly with Ra's for a few days. They drink that special tea from 1 and sedately discuss things like art or music.

 

At some point Ra's suggests chess and that speeds things along. It's the first time in ages that Tim's had a real challenge at chess. Damian is good, and Alfred is better but Tim can think 12 steps ahead of both of them so there's no real challenge there.

 

Ra's is a challenge.

 

“I didn't expect Luthor.” Ra's murmurs. “He did that well.”

 

“Yes. Now that it's done it seems obvious.” Tim answers levelly.

 

“I thought it might have been the rebels of one kind or another.”

 

“Only one kind these day Ra's.” Tim replies.

 

Ra's looks surprised. “Really?”

 

Tim nods. “Factions weaken a cause.”

 

“Am I meant to be impressed?”

 

Tim shrugs. “Doesn't matter whether or not you're impressed. Makes no difference to us.”

 

“So you're not trying to recruit me and mine to your cause by casually letting it drop that you've united the Districts and half-a-dozen factions?”

 

Tim chuckles. “I find it funny that you don't realize we already have you and yours.”

 

“It's my choice where my acolytes go.”

 

“You haven't got a choice. We have your grandson, he is loyal to us unto death. And we have his father. Which means between the two of them, we have your daughter as well. Then there's your former Avox, who's told us all sort of interesting things about your organization.”

 

Ra's blinks, taken off guard. He's been do powerful for so long that he never expects people to go against him. He'd forgotten Jason Todd.

 

“And then of course...” Tim continues as he slides a queen across the board. “...there's me. I've been in your computer system for years, and I may not be as dangerous in person as my brothers, but I'm still fucking dangerous.”

 

Ra's jerks as though he might lunge across the chess board but Tim has the stiletto from his sleeve out and at the old man's throat quicker than thought.

 

“I wouldn't do that Ra's. It would be a terrible thing if you killed a young Victor like me, someone who asked for shelter. But, then you're an old man, older than most of us remember. You're mind is probably starting to go.”

 

Ra's glares and sits back down. “My mind is fine.”

 

“Good, than I won't have you sent to a home for the elderly. Out of sight and out of trouble.”

 

Ra's jumps a piece with his knight.

 

“What do you want Timothy?” he growls.

 

Tim met the old man's gaze. “Nothing. Which is what you're going to do. Except for what I tell you.”

 

“And why would I do that? Despite your threats you couldn't really depose me.”

 

Tim moves a rook.

 

“Oh but I could. However, I don't want to. I want you to do what I say. Which is why I'll say just one word now: Nhyssa.”

 

Ra's freezes. He'd thought his youngest daughter the best kept secret in Panem.

 

“Are you threatening her?” he growls.

 

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Not yet, but you should know I haven't got any compunctions about killing, unlike the rest of my family. So do as you're told or I will make you regret it like nothing else you've ever felt.”

 

The no killing rule was a bone of contention within the clan. Bruce and Damian needed it to prevent themselves from become raging psychopaths. That train had left the station as far as Jason was concerned who killed often and thoughtlessly. Dick was just simply not a killer, he'd never choose death if life was an option, probably had something to do with the optimism. Cass killed coldly and logically, when that course seemed the best, but she was never cruel.

 

Tim had killed carefully in his Games and though he'd never been tempted to kill outside of them he didn't have a philosophical aversion to doing so. After all, what was one more body in this world of blood?

 

And he was capable of being cruel if it suited his purpose.

 

“Checkmate.” He declares.

 

Ra's knocks his king over in defeat.

 

“I'd never found cause to truly admire a man from Gotham before.” Ra's remarks, his eyes boring into Tim's own. “You're an unique individual Mr. Timothy Drake-Wayne. I'll be keeping an eye on you.”

 

Tim stands and tips an imaginary hat. “I consider it an honour, and I think I'll be going now. You remember what I said.”

 

Ra's nods sharply and his eyes follow Tim on his way out.

 

 

 

 

 

Dick isn't sure how he feels about spending the night with Midnighter. On the one hand, he did consent to it, and he appreciates the fact that Lex asked him and didn't order him and kept any veiled threats on the level of possible civil unrest and lives lost should Midnighter refuse to support the new regime rather than insinuating that if Dick refuses something terrible might happen to the 13 year old he calls his little brother.

 

On the other hand Dick has been happily shielded from this sort of thing for a number of years, first by Jason's little killing spree that had understandably spooked his clientele and then by the previous administration needing to control Damian who they (rightly) realized was more than a little unstable following his Games and who's behaviour was considerably more likely to verge into the _unpredicatbly and uncontrolably violent_ territory if Dick was A) unable to rush to the kid's side whenever he needed to and B) under any sort of threat. So they'd bought Damian's good behaviour with Dick's safety.

 

Dick's agreeable cooperation and decision to move to the Capitol had also pleased them enough to lay off the threats.

 

All of which leaves aside the fact that Dick is unfortunately and completely straight. He likes women. End of story. Sure he likes sex in all it's many varied forms (and has had the opportunity to sample most of them) and has enjoyed sex with a man in the past, but he knows from experience that customers like Midnighter, customers who are being bribed with his body rarely bother to make sure Dick is having a good time.

 

So, quite simply: this night will suck.

 

A stylist nervously flits into the room he's staying in.

 

It's not his room so he doesn't mind her lack of care. He hasn't been home since the argument with Kori on the Tribute Centre roof and he has a feeling that if he tried it wouldn't be allowed. He's a valuable commodity for a bunch of different reasons, a popular figure both in the Capitol and some of the Districts, and has been viewed as the more or less embodied to the weak point in the armoured defences of District 3's Victors for 15 years. He's valuable politically as well as monetarily.

 

So, the stylist is nervous around him, and he kind of likes it that way. He hasn't had a personal stylist in years. Not since Jason disappeared.

 

She doesn't ask questions but does glance significantly at some selections that have more in common with what he wore 5 years ago than what he wears now. He let's her know without a single word that she will be putting that on him only if she gets some guards to hold him down while she does it.

 

She moves her hand away from the electric blue and towards some more sombre shades. He nods his approval.

 

She smiles like it's some sort of magic to be given the approval of the famous Richard Grayson. Who knows it probably is as far as she's concerned.

 

It's stuff like that which keeps Dick from managing to hate them- the people of the Capitol that is. Sometimes he wishes he could label all of those that have been involved in this as monsters the way Kori and Jason do and have done with it, or barring that somehow divorce himself from all feeling about it the way Bruce does.

 

But, Dick can't. Because. Because he can't. He's never learned to hate very well. And as much as there have been times he thought he'd go insane from it all, there have also been times when his clients were just so....

 

So...

 

 

...When they'd been kind. When they were very kind and he could tell they were just lonely and that they didn't know he had no choice. Or they did know and kept coming back because they were afraid for him and didn't touch him without asking first.

 

There'd been one old man, who'd been so sweet and had always bought Dick the best presents. Not the generic jewels or whatever other nonsense was in fashion that year but who had had a knack for finding out what Dick really wanted and getting it for him.

 

He'd given Dick specially designed shoes for his acrobatics once, light but flexible and with an excellent grip.

 

He was one of the ones Jason had killed.

 

Dick sighs and looks at himself in the mirror. He looks good. He almost always does. They haven't done too much to him. Just a bit of makeup, a bit of gold shimmer on his skin and a revealing set of clothing which will look good being taken off. After all he's seeing someone from the Districts and tastes there don't favour the elaborate get-ups of the Capitol.

 

It occurs to him that despite Lex's promises and polite way of asking Dick would really rather not be having sex like this.

 

Certainly he'd rather not be having sex with Commander Midnighter who falls at the intersection of all the characteristics Dick has come to fear in clients: military, male, middle-aged, and greedy.

 

Dick gets up. No shoes. He doesn't like them and being barefoot projects an intimacy that can be helpful.

 

The stylist herds him out of the room and down the hallway to where the Commander from 2 is waiting.

 

Dick steels himself and then enters without knocking, a smile already pasted on his lips. He used to be good at this, he reminds himself. It used to be easy.

 

Commander Midnighter looks about like Dick imagined he would. He's tall and broad, with dark hair, District middle-aged which means he's had no work done are there are lines around his mouth and eyes. He's somewhere between 10 and 20 years older than Dick himself.

 

Dick smiles at him as though it's a lovely flattering surprise that this important person wants so badly to spend time with him.

 

He sticks out a hand. “Richard Grayson, you must be Commander Midnighter.”

 

Midnighter nods. He looks a little dazed and a little angry. Dick pretends not to see the tension in his jaw but files it away for later.

 

Dick wavers before lowering his hand. He smiles again not bothering to hide his uncertainty.

 

“I heard you wanted to meet me? Gotta say” he carefully edges his smile towards impish and sits down on the couch. “you sure know how to make a guy feel wanted, it's not often I get to meet someone like-”

 

“Oh don't bother with the flattery.” the voice is cold and used to command. It makes Dick's heart jump and his mouth click shut involuntarily, he tries not to let it show, he swallows and puts the smile back on.

 

“Oh, don't be like that.” he stands back up and saunters closer and starts to undo the man's tie. Hehis hands along his bare skin. He reaches to undo the commander's belt with a lusty glance.

 

Midnighter grabs his wrists and shoves him away.

 

Dick fakes a stumble and puts on a suitably frightened expression. He'd hoped Commander Midnight wouldn't be this sort of client but he's not surprised he is. The deal was too generous for him to be otherwise.

 

“Don't bother with the act, Richard Grayson. I want the truth.” Midnighter growls advancing on where Dick is sprawled against the couch. “No games.”

 

Dick whips his head to look at Midnighter and it's all he can do to suppress a growl. How fucking dare he? It wasn't enough to want to frighten him before they had sex but he was demanding Dick drop his last line of protection? It made him see red. That was one thing he didn't owe anyone.

 

_Was this what Jason felt all the time?_ No wonder he was always killing people.

 

He laughs and it's a jagged and broken sound but Dick can't seem to stop it. “No Games? Why my dear Commander Midnight...it's all a Game. You know. I wouldn't have minded this so much- Lex is paying me well to make you happy, but you just had to get greedy.”

 

Dick rips his shirt off over his head. It's an awkward movement and he viciously throws it at the wall. He doesn't bother with any of his practiced sensuality. He's so upset every movement he makes seems sharp and jerky, with none of his usual ease and grace. It's like the whole world's gone slightly off kilter.

 

“You want the truth?” he snarls. “Here's the truth: when I was 14 I killed 4 other children to be crowned Victor of the 94th Hunger Games. People always forget that, in moments like these.”

 

He scrubs at his face with his hands, trying to wipe some of the makeup off and probably only managing to smear it all over. “I was sold for sex for the first time at 16. I was violently raped at 21 as a message for Jason Todd to behave...do you remember Jason Todd?” He unbuckles his belt and steps out of his pants.

 

Midnighter shakes his head and takes a step back.

 

Dick shrugs. “He was the next District 3 Victor after me. Tough kid. Not as pretty. After what they did to me he killed himself.”

 

He kicks Midnighter ankles out from under him sending him crashing back onto the couch. Dick climbs up there with him, a knee on each shoulder and his hands around the man's throat. There's an old secret bubbling behind his teeth. He's livid and he bets he doesn't look quite so sexy now.

 

“That wasn't the first time I was raped and it wasn't the last but it was by far the worst. Especially after Jason did what he did. So you know what I did to the guy who did it? The one who raped me and beat me and dumped me naked at my father's door?”

 

Midnighter shakes his head. Dick bares his teeth and then leans down to whisper in his ear. “I had him killed. I told one of my many admirers it would be a debt I could never repay, let her think I'd love her for it. So she killed him for me, and then to repay the favour I killed her. They found her in pieces you know.”

 

He keeps one hand on Midnighter's throat as rises to peel off his underwear.

 

“So, the truth is: I hate no one in the world as much as I hate you in this moment, and I'd quite like to kill you, but I won't.”

 

“Did you like the truth?” Dick asks. He resettles himself so he's straddling the man's crotch, naked while the Commander is still fully clothed. He leans down and whispers in the older man's ears “Do you still want to fuck me? I did tell Luthor I'd let you.”

 

Midnighter shakes his head.

 

Dick sneers and gets off him. He sets his heel on the man's throat and presses down just a little before stepping away. He's got half a mind to storm down the hallway stark naked. Hell, he's so out of control right now he might go up to the roof and do backflips into the forcefield the way he used to or go running through the streets screaming and crying. It could go either way.

 

He pulls his underwear on, and picks up the commander's jacket. He's confident that it at least doesn't have nano-trackers built into the seams.

 

 

“Wait.” The Commander suddenly calls

 

 

Dick freezes, ready for the man to come up swinging.

 

“You agreed to spend the night with me. If you leave now...the New President will know you...uh..you..." Midnighter trails off awkwardly and bites his lip. He levers himself up into a sitting position.

 

“Just stay here for the night.” Midnighter insists. “Just sit here. I won't do anything. I won't tell the President.”

 

Dick is so very tired of people trying to threaten him into doing what they want. He grabs the tray holding glasses of champagne and in a single motion leaps across the room and brings it up and around to catch the Commander under the jaw with a sharp crack. Midnighter crumples to the floor unconscious.

 

Dick spits on him and then growls “I won't be staying anywhere.”

 

It takes until Dick has finished bypassing the familiar security of the Tribute Centre before what ever vicious cold madness had taken over lifts enough for what he's done to really sink in.

Once it does he has to lean against the wall of an alley because thinks his heart is going to give out. He's doomed them all by doing this. Lex had offered safety and Dick had all but thrown it back in his face.

 

This isn't Jason panicking and throwing a wild punch. This is the tame dog baring teeth for the first time. This was Dick vindictively and intentionally ruining an important negotiation because the client said the wrong thing. He's made a deal with Lex Luthor and Lex Luthor did not treat people who broke deals very well.

 

The only thing for it was to head to his place and not resist when Luthor's men came for him. Maybe that way the President will show mercy to the rest of the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Dick finally got to be the badass he is. 
> 
> Basically the only reason this fic isn't 100% Tim and Kon cuddling is because I wanted to write that scene with Dick. 
> 
> I hope you all liked it! Comments always make my day so, please tell me what you thought!


	3. Lois Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Capitol still in turmoil, Lois Lane publishes an article on the forced prostitution of Victors. Commander Midnighter wakes up with one hell of a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: the summary pretty much covers it.

Kon isn't surprised that Tim shows up at his door once the lockdown is lifted. He's lucky Kon's here to open it. Lex wants him moved to the Presidential Palace. As if that wouldn't be hell and a half for Kon.

 

Tim ducks in out of the rain.

 

“You okay?” Kon asks.

 

Tim nods. “You gotten any word from my people?”

 

Kon shakes his head. “It's chaos. Plenty of people can't be found and no one knows if they've taken the chance to flee the city, or are just hiding out or have been taken.”

 

Tim nods. “They've got Dick. I know that. He called me with a warning, he would have only known if he was with someone who was involved.”

 

“Someone who wouldn't have just let him run off when things started getting exciting.” Kon guesses.

 

Tim nods. “I need to get out of town. If they took him they might come for me. It's no coincidence your father ensuring I'd be in the Capitol for this.”

 

Kon nods back. “Where have you been? Lex was asking after you.”

 

Tim chuckles. “Hiding out with Ra's al Ghul of all people.”

 

Kon can't hide his surprise. Ra's antagonism towards the rebel cause and the Victors of District 3 is well known.

 

Tim grins. “He likes fighting us too much to ever really hurt us. And I beat him at chess!”

 

He's exhuberant and Kon is surprised when his friend reaches up and kisses him firm on the mouth.

 

He steps back. Tim's face falls. “Sorry, I-”

 

“No, That's not-...just before you do that there's something you should see...”

 

Kon goes and gets his pad, which is connected to the illegal networks and shows him the page that's been shared and forwarded more time than he can count.

 

“SHIT.” Tim screams. “What is this?” he taps through the pages. “Lois fucking Lane. Did you tell her Kon?!”   
  


“Yes, but she already knew. The story was written...she-”

 

“Is it all over all the networks?” Tim aks desperately.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Kon stands as Tim sinks to sitting on the bed, reading the article. It's an exposé, a horrific one, of the forced prostitution of Victors. Not a single Victor or revolutionary interviewed. It's peacekeepers who were witnesses, hotel staff and remake workers who had to pick up the pieces, train operatives that had to take the broken people home. People who were too sickened to be silent when someone finally gave them the opportunity to speak.

 

Tim's face is grey. “Did this reach the Districts?”

 

Kon shrugs. “The lines are still down I haven't been able to reach anyone for sure, but odds are that yes, on the underground networks,-This is out there at least in 1,2 and 3.”

 

There are pictures, and videos captured from security footage mostly, but a few of them were obviously taken by the perpetrators of the crimes. Tim knows all these people. They're his friends. This is his family.

He gags at the sight of a bruised teenaged Dick Grayson, and Kon rushes over and rubs his back.   
  


“They'll be riots in the districts over this. The whole country's going to spin out of control and there's no one who can stop them.” Tim gasps, tears streaming down his face.

 

“You don't know that.” Kon argues. Tim is shaking.

 

“I do. I see things the patterns of things. I can predict-” He chokes on his words. “You have to come with me.” He tugs at Kon's arm. “We have to leave, now. We'll take your cycle, We'll go to Ra's he can get us out, or try and find one of Hood's people. We can't stay here. They'll kill you.”

 

“Why would they-...?”

 

“Because you're the Capitol born son of a Victor. After people read this they'll make assumptions about what that means.”

 

“I'm legally Lex's son, not Clark's no one will-”

 

“YOU LOOK LIKE CLARK! THEY'LL KNOW!!! THIS COUNTRY IS ABOUT TO BOIL OVER. WE NEED TO GET TO GOTHAM.”

 

“What's there for me in Gotham?” Kon asks quietly.

 

“Me.” Tim whispers. “Between Bruce and Hood we own that city. No one will hurt any of us. We'll cut the train tracks and ride this out.”

 

He prays they will. That the revolutionaries will be able to take this in stride and will have ways to keep the cities fed. Otherwise they'll be forced to keep the roads open, if the rebels aren't ready the city will be starving in a matter of weeks without the shipments from 11 and then Lex can crush them at his leisure.

 

Kon shakes his head. “I can't go to a strange District. If I go anywhere I'll go to 11 and to Clark.”

 

“From Gothan Ja- that is Hood- has ways of getting everywhere. He can get you to 11. You'll see.”

 

Tim stands and tugs on Kon's hand. “But we've got to go." he begs. "We've got to go now.”

 

Kon shakes his head. “If it's safety that matters to you we should go to the Palace. Lex is my father. He'll look after me, and you.”

 

Tim shakes his head. “You don't understand. The minute I stop being useful to him, I will become disposable. That's not something I can-”

 

“I'm not going.” Kon declares.

 

Tim looks desperate. “Then you'll die. Either Lex will kill you to clean up his image or to hide what he's done, or one day his regime will fall and they'll kill you because you were his son. In Gotham you might have a chance.”

 

Kon sighs and puts a hand on either side of Tim's face. “Everything dies baby that's a fact.” he's quoting a song from before the dark days. It's silly but he's never been good with words and he needs Tim to understand.

 

Tim shakes his head, refusing to listen and blinking back his tears.

 

Kon kisses Tim on the forehead and then the lips. “But maybe everythign that dies, one day comes back... We're all going to die someday Timmy. This way if they win you might be able to save me, and if Lex wins I might be able to save you.”

 

Tim nods accepting Kon's decisions but still not understanding it. “I'll take everything I can carry from my desk and your cycle.” he tells him flatly. Kon tries to remain impassive as Tim loads himself up with all the contraband treasures Kon has collected for his friend's workbench over the years.

 

Tim pauses at the door. “Try not to die, okay Kon? For as long as possible.” He doesn't give Kon time to answer before disappearing out the door.

 

Kon listens to the roars of the dirtbike engine and wonders where he'll go. He wonders if he'll make it.

 

He wonders if they both will.

 

 

 

 

Commander Gordon Chief Peacekeeper of District 3 stands smoking on the roof. The signal had been on all night but with the chaos caused by...everything he's not surprised the Batman hasn't deigned to show up.

 

There's a noise behind him and he turns to see the no-longer so familiar form of Robin standing behind him. The kid's shooting up like something else, at this rate he'll tower over everyone by the time he's grown.

 

“What is it?” the child barks.

 

Gordon wishes he had a better answer. “I was hoping to speak to the big man.”

 

“Tt” The expression of scorn is familiar to Gordon, he's been receiving it ever since this smallest iteration of Robin first showed up all those years ago.

 

“The District will be in chaos if we don't work together we can-”

 

“I believe you know perfectly well why the Batman no longer wishes to be seen collaborating with police.”

 

Gordon can taste bile in his throat. The child is talking about the story. He's seen it. Gordon shouldn't be surprised- it's flooded all the networks. He hopes Lois Lane has somewhere safe to hide. If the reports are true half the Districts are in the midsts of uprisings following that story, with their Victors leading the way. The Capitol will want her dead.

 

“We are not responsibl-” he tries to protest.

 

“Sure, you weren't responsible for Nightwing, either were you? Never mind it was Peacekeepers that killed him. That came from the Capitol, too. It's not your fault. You didn't hold my brother down when they cut out his tongue, but it _was_ a peacekeeper. Maybe like you, he thought himself apart from what he was doing, maybe the policy disgusted him but he carried it out because he was a good peacekeeper and he believed that there were sacrifices needed for order. Goodness sometimes needs the help of a little badness after all.”

 

Gordon would like to point out that this is certainly true of Gotham's vigilantes. They're allied with Red Hood and he knows they often hide from less understanding Peacekeepers in the safety of the narrows where any Peacekeeper foolish enough to follow will disappear with only his helmet sent back to the station, no longer white but instead painted red with the dead man's blood. But he doesn't, there's too much rage in that childish voice. Too much twisted bitterness for him to voice his feeble protests.

 

Robin's disgust is clear even with a mask. “When will you understand Gordon that by your every action you support the Capitol? With every order you obey you prop up a regime that kills children and rapes the survivors, you are supporting the people who cut migh brother's tongue out.”

 

Robin seems more bored by this conversation than anything else. “What good are your moral and philosophical objections if in the end you follow the orders and kill us anyway?”

 

Within the blink of an eye Robin is gone, as silently as if he had never been there. Gordon sighs, and wonders what he should do.

 

 

 

 

Tim is surprised when the com he's wearing buzzes to life. It's a private channel on a device of which there are only 7 in existence because Tim only made 7, and they have a short range so it must be-

 

“Dick?”

 

“Hey, Tim.” Dick sounds wrecked.

 

“Thank God! Where are you? I'm trying to find Jason, com find me and we can get out of town-”

 

“I can't.” Dick's voice is dead.

 

Tim stops dead. “Why?”

 

“I did something really really stupid. Lex asked me to... spend some time with the Commander of the Peacekeepers.”

 

“You didn't. You know how much effort everyone's put into trying to keep you safe, I mean-”

 

“I know! Okay, and I had like...a brief psychotic break and...I-

 

“Dick. _What did you do_?”

 

There's a long shuddery breath. “I knocked out the Commander of the Peacekeepers but not before I told him about some things....that Lex would probably not appreciate me sharing.”

 

“Dick we can work with this. Jason's been on the run for years it's-”

 

“Go without me. You'll be safer and if I'm lucky I'll still be in a position to talk to Bruce about what's happening here.”

 

“Dick-”

 

“If you can find Kori, would you get her out? For me?”

 

“Of course, we'll get you both out but first you have to-” Tim pleads.

 

The line goes dead.

 

 

 

 

Commander Midnighter woke up with his entire head one solid ache, a sick feeling of shame in his stomach and one of his subordinates standing over him looking sheepish.

 

What had he been thinking? Screw that he knows what he'd been thinking, he's been thinking “How much can I take Lex Luthor for before he realizes I'm never going to make good?” His husband had laughed when he'd written “A Wild Night with Richard Grayson” on the list of impossible demands, write under “Brand New Car in the Fastest Capitol Model” and above “Matching diamond necklaces for me and Apollo”

 

It's just one of those things you say. “I wouldn't do it for a night with Richard Grayson.”

 

And then Lex Luthor had looked over the list, said the car was out of the question and everything else should be taken care of in the next few days.

 

Midnighter hadn't actually considered the possibility of having Richard Grayson more or less handed to him on a platter, revealing clothing and come-hither glances and all.

 

And then he'd walked into the room like some freakin' golden god, but he was shorter than he'd imagined and there'd been this...this flicker of fear when Midnighter had told him not to bother with flattery and then...

 

Midnighter had deserved it. He knows that. He'd known that the man was only going to sleep with him because Luthor either told him to or because he was being paid but he'd thought....

 

He hadn't thought at all. He'd just wanted that pretty young man he saw on TV and hadn't wanted to think about how the kid might feel about that. God...if the kid had been even a tiny bit better at hiding what he felt Midnighter would probably be balls deep in him right now.

 

He staggers up to a standing position.

 

“Did you see Richard Grayson go out?” he asks.

 

The peacekeeper nods. “Did you stop him?” Midnighter demands.

 

The peacekeeper shakes his head. Midnighter shouldn't be surprised. The kid is probably so awestruck by the Victor that he can't even speak when he's around. It's a surprisingly common problem.

 

Midnight gestures to the closet. “Grab me my uniform and get me Richard Grayson's address from the law enforcement files. God knows he must have had to call the peacekeepers to deal with people at least once.”

 

The recruit nods and leaves the room.

 

Midnighter leans against the wall cursing himself. He never planned to back Luthor but now the person that's going to be blamed for that is Richard Grayson. Capitol Collaborator or not the man doesn't deserve what Luthor might do to him for messing this up-

 

With a shudder Midnighter thinks of the vicious violent words whispered in his ear

 

-And that's without even factoring in what the man's already been through. The kid shouldn't pay for Midnighter's mistakes.

 

He picks up the phone and calls Luthor to praise his latest gift to the high heavens. In excrutiatingly embarassing detail. That at least should buy the kid some time.

 

Hopefully when it becomes clear that Midnighter's entire visit was just a cover for the martialling and withdrawal of District 2 troops from the Capitol the hammer won't come down on Grayson too hard.

 

 

 

 

Dick sighs and sits back down on his couch. He's waiting. It's only a matter of time before someone comes for him. He's waiting for the knock on the door and when it comes he'll go quietly. He's not risking collatoral damage on this one. Lex gave him a good deal and he fucked it up. The only one who was going to pay would be him.

 

He's surprised when it's not a knock on the door but the phone ringing. He answers.

 

“Grayson, I'm afraid I have some bad news." It's Luthor, his voice cold and clinically detached. "Despite your valiant efforts on behalf of my cause, and I really do appreciate it I understand it was difficult for you, it seems Midnighter never had any intention of making good on his promises and is fleeing the Capitol with all the military forces of District 2 stationed here that will follow him.”

 

“Does this....?” he doesn't even know how he's planning to finish the question. There are too many. _Does this mean the deal is off? Does this mean_ _you're blaming me?_

 

“I understand perfectly well it wasn't your fault. But this complicates matters. In order to keep my promise in regards to your continued safety, I'm going to have you brought to the Presidential Palace. You'll be safe here.”

 

“Oh...I- Thank you, Lex. I'm so glad you don't blame me.”

 

“The man's a greed two-faced idiot. Why would I blame you?”

 

“I don't know. The last administration would've.”

 

“Well, I'm not like them, am I?”

 

 

 

Bruce paces back and forth in front of the screen in the cave. “I will not agree to any direct military action while my sons are unaccounted for.”

“Are your sons lives worth more than that of any other young man?” Diana from 13 barks.

 

“Of course not..” Bruce grumbles.

 

“You are not alone in your predicament. Many of your fellow rebels have children in the Capitol. They are not demanding that those children's lives be weighed more heavily in the balance than any other.”

 

Bruce can't help but glaring at Clark and Barry, the two Victors with children in the Capitol whom he knows best. They stare shamefacedly back and he can't bring himself to point out that he's the only one who actually loves his children like a father. They know. Clark may have come to care for Kon but he definitely doesn't see the boy as his son, and Bart was born when Barry was practically a teenager himself, was raised by other people and is seen by his biological father on average once a year for a few days.

 

It's not the same for them and they know it. He doesn't need to humiliate them by pointing it out.

 

“We can still negotiate with Luthor, change the system from within.” Bruce argues chainging tactics

 

“The time has past for that Wayne.” Diana growls. She is not a Victor so Lois Lane's article had particularly disturbed her. “This system cannot be allowed to stand. Sacrifices must be made.”

 

Bruce sighs feeling himself relent. “Very well.”

 

“Good, than we are all agreed. We will begin coordinated direct military action in all the districts. You will all strive to unify the protestors into our cause.”

 

One by one the broadcasts from the other districts go dark.

 

The last one to remain on is the feed from 11. Clark looks apologetic.

 

“Any word from them?” he asks.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “The Capitol's been dark for days. You know that.”

 

“I'm sorry Bruce. Despite the direct action, things won't get to the Capitol for weeks probably.”

 

“But the first person Lex grabs for leverage when he hear's whats happening will be my boys.”

 

Clark nods. “Jason's there right? He'll get them out. He's good at that sort of thing.”

 

Bruce smiles wryly and turns the screens off.

 

He turns to look over his shoulder. Damian, Cassandra and Titus the dog are all sitting silently on the steps leading down from the mansion.

 

Bruce doesn't tell them it's going to be alright. He doesn't know that and he doesn't want to lie.

 

 

 

 

When Tim rides up to an old supplies cache just outside the borders of the Capitol he's surprised to see a Peacekeeper truck already parked there. Even more surprised when Red Hood leans out the window of the driver's seat and waves to him.

 

He takes in the fact that Tim is tearstained, pale, inappropriately dressed for a long offroad trek and has overloaded the light little dirt-bike with the entire contents of pretty much every hidden workshop he keeps in the City. Jason glances behind Tim, waiting for another figure to emerge from the darkness. Nobody is there.

 

"Where's Dick?" Jason asks.

 

“He pissed off Lex, and was with a client when this went down. He said to go without him.” Tim answers sounding hoarse.

 

Jason turns the engine off. Kori peaks out from the back seat. “Richard isn't coming?” she asks.

 

Tim shakes his head and grabs Jason's arm as he tries to storm past. “No, Jay we need to leave now. Once Lex gets his feet under him we'll be stuck here. He's got the Commander of 2 on his side. We need to go and go now.”

 

“I'm not leaving him here, I've gone to too much trouble keeping him alive to do somethign like that.” Jason shouts trying to break free of Tim's grip.

 

Tim yanks him back. “Dick is the strongest person any of us know. If he says to go, we listen.”

 

Jason pauses. “The kid will kill us if we come back without him.”

 

Tim shrugs. “I made a deal with Ra's. If it comes to it he can mount a rescue mission. Now let's go.”

 

With a sigh, Jason into the car and Tim hops in beside him. They take a service road out, Jason kills a couple guards on the way.

 

If Dick were here he'd be upset about that but he's not.

 

 

 

They drive into the night.

 

 

 

Kon looks up from the couch in surprise when Richard Grayson is lead into the sitting room. Kon's only met him once or twice in passing, always at uncomfortably fancy parties.

 

This barefoot man in sweatpants, and judging by the shade of purple, one of his girlfriend's old shirts seems to bear as much resemblance to the golden gold of a man who dazzled while also making you feel like you were worth a million bucks (figuratively speaking of course the operating costs of the experiment which had produced Kon ran much higher than that) as a chickadee to a thunder bird.

 

And then Grayson catches sight of Kon and grins like it's the best thing that's ever happened to him and yup. Kon can see it now. Damn son.

 

Kon waves awkwardly, but that dies in the cradle when Dick throws his arms around him.

 

“KON-L AS I LIVE AND BREATHE! This little stay in Palatial splendour won't be a complete write off if I finally get the chance to get to know Timmy's best friend.”

 

Kon thinks about kissing Tim and goes red. Grayson's eyebrows nearly meet his hairline. “OooOohhh! Are you more than friends?” There's eyebrow waggling now.

 

Kon's standing in the Presidential Palace during a coup that's been orchestrated by his father who is being directly opposed by rebel forces one of whom is his other father and Richard Grayson, who was 4 times voted the sexiest man alive, is waggling his eyebrows at Kon over kissing his best friend, who also happens to be Grayson's younger adopted brother and a member of the rebel network.

 

This is a level of surrealism that Kon is just not comfortable having in his life.

 

So Kon does what he always does to cope. He focuses on the smaller more manageable problems.

 

“I kissed Tim, but he was like crying and there emotions and hormones and I mean, I'm technically seven and physically 16 but I've been physically 16 for 7 years, so does that mean that I'm not legal yet?” he blurts out.

 

After all if there's one thing that Richard Grayson is more than qualified to give advice on it's dating.

 

Grayson has to clap his hands over his mouth to keep from squealing with joy and still makes a sort of excited high-pitched squeaking noise.

 

Kon waits as Dick takes a number of deep breaths and then sits down next to Kon on the couch. “Okay, tell me everything.”

 

 

 

 

Tim holds his breath as Damian looks at him and then behind him; While he puts on a good front everyone knows he's not quite recovered from last years Games.

 

“Where's Grayson?” he asks distantly.

 

“He was caught up with some hoi-poloi's when the coup started. They were watching him too closely and there was no way he could have gotten out. He told us to leave him there.” Tim explains.

 

It's painful watching the way Damian tries to act in an approximation of his pre-Games self. He nods curtly, and hugs his stomach. “But he's safe?” He asks with his voice only shaking a little.

 

“Yeah.” Tim assures him.

 

What Damian really needs right now is a hug, and Tim actually steps forward to give him one before hesitating and stepping back. The only person whose hugs Damian _likes_ are Dick's. Tim understands- the only person he ever initiates physical contact with is Kon, a thought which now has it's own merry little minefield of things he will not think about.

 

Damian glances at Tim sharply. “The mission was a success though?”

 

Tim nods. “The Capitol fleet is grounded. Luthor will have a nasty surprise when he tries to subdue the Districts.”

 

Damian grins, the terrifying feral grin that made the entire Capitol simultaneously wet themselves a little bit. “Good.” he says.

 

Tim nods and smiles back at him. It's good to have the real Damian back.

 

 

 

 

There's still no word on Dick yet when they receive a very strange call in the Victor's mansion. On the screen at the Victor's Mansion, which means the official line. The line which hasn't worked in weeks.

 

It takes them all some time to work out what is making that sound. Once they do they all stand around staring at it for a second. Whoever is calling must have either gotten around the blocks which would seem to indicate certain rebel leanings, but had then called Bruce Wayne's home phone which is pretty much exclusively used for bitching to Kent and pretending you're not visualizing the brutal murder of whichever Capitolite handler is politely ordering you to get back in front of a camera, something that would seem to indicate a member of the Capitol government.

 

It's Bruce who answers. Cass, Damian and Tim all hover out of sight of the camera, too curious to leave the room.

 

“Hiya! You've got Bruce Wayne!”

 

They all roll their eyes. That's laying the partyboy persona on a bit thick.

 

“Ummm...Well, you've got Commander Midnighter of District 2, leader of Panem's armies?” The man on the other end of the line seems taken aback. Clearly he was not prepared for Bruce is full billionaire-playboy mode.

 

“And, why are you calling me? Not that it's not an honour but we all thought the lines were down, and if they're back up I'd like-”

 

The Commander cuts him off. “Cut the crap. I talked to your son a few days ago, and you can't be as dumb as you play if you raised him.”

 

Bruce drops the act like a hot potato and crosses his arms with a glare. “And which son would that be?”

 

“Richard Grayson. Lex Luthor arranged the meeting and-”

 

This horrifying information barely has time to register before Damian is leaping across the room and hip checking his father out of the way.

 

“Listen here scum, if you hurt him, if you touched him, if you vaguely upset him in anyway, I will find you, dismember you, kill you and finally send you back to your family and loved ones piece by 2 inch piece.”

 

If Midnighter was offput before he was shocked speechless this time. Tim didn't blame him. Damian tended to have that effect on people.

 

Bruce picks Damian up by the shoulders and moves him out of frame. “You will do no such thing. Honestly, Dick can look after himself.”

 

“I'll say.” Midnighter agrees, ruefully rubbing a fading bruise on his jaw. “Kid knocked me out with a drinks tray. First time I've lost a fight in years.”

 

Damian looks very pleased at that, and Tim hears Cass try and stifle a laugh.

 

Bruce nods like he expects nothing less from his children than the ability to defend themselves with dinnerware if necessary.

 

“Well?” Bruce asks, trying to keep Damian from shoving back into frame. “I hope you didn't just call to tell me my son hit you with a drinks tray. That's hardly a banner day around here.”

 

He ends up picking Damian up and tucking him under one arm.

 

“I'm beginning to realise that. I was calling because until now I didn't know you were a leader of the resistance and since I just defied Lex Luthor and control the majority of the country's military it seemed like we ought to get to know one another.”

 

Tim can't keep his mouth shut. “Wait, Dick met you once and hit you with a drinks tray and still managed to recruit you to the cause?”

 

Cass shakes her head in awe. “What cursed star was that boy born under?”

 

Midnighter cranes around onscreen obviously trying to figure out who'd just said that. “I wouldn't put it that way. I was already against Luthor.”

 

He tries to hide it but Tim can tell Bruce is very smug about all this when he delivers the news that the military district is on their side. If Tim didn't know any better he'd say the man was gloating and rubbing his success in Diana Prince's face.

 

 

 

 

The message they's all be waiting for comes a few days later. An encrypted code repeating itself on the single long-range radio frequency they use.

 

“Nightwinge is safe. Nightwing is a guest of the President. Nightwing is unhurt. Red Robin your boyfriend misses you. Nightwing is safe. Nightwing is a guest of the President. Nightwing is unhurt...”

 

They've all gathered around the computer in the Batcave to listen to the message.

 

Bruce turns to Tim with a frown. “What's this about a boyfriend Tim?”

 

“Oh, for God's sake Bruce! I'm 21 and there's a war on- don't you have better things to worry about?!”

 

“No.” The entire family says in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter of the story. There will be an epilogue that should be up as soon as I finish writing it. This is also the last story in the series, though if any one has particular requests for a scene or piece of backstory that I've mentioned just drop me a line and I'll consider writing it for you guys as a 'Thank You' for making it to the end. 
> 
> I hope you like it. Epilogue should be up in the next couple of days.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years later the members of the Batfamily try to decide their future in the new world they've helped to make.

Tim finds Damian on the roof, which isn't that surprising. These days the rooftops belong to Damian even more than they once belonged to Dick Grayson. What _is_ surprising is that the kid isn't doing anything. He's just sitting watching the sun rise.

 

 

“The war is over.” Damian declares without turning his head, apparently having sensed Tim's presence.

 

 

They'd gotten news of the treaty today. Luthor and his allies had agreed to term. Terms which left both sides with a bitter taste in their mouth, but which ended the war all the same.

 

Tim sits down beside him. “Yeah. Looks like it.”

 

He's still not used to how big Damian is these days. The kid was already a head and a half taller than Tim and at 18 might still have some growing left in him.

 

He was such a large quiet young man that it was sometimes it was hard to remember that Damian had once been a loud obnoxious tiny child.

 

“Was it worth it?” Damian asks as he looks over the city. Unlike most of the other Districts Gotham doesn't look much worse than it did before the war, but that's just because Gotham had always looked half destroyed.

 

Tim wonders why it's him Damian's asking. Even being stuck in Gotham together for the majority of the last five years hasn't brought them any closer.

 

“We didn't choose it Damian.”

 

Damian glares at him. “We were planning a rebellion Tim, that we weren't the instigators of this war doesn't change the fact that we _were_ fighting to bring a war about.”

 

“You were 13 and traumatised. You were hardly planning anything.”

 

“You know what I mean. What was the point of the last five years? We didn't win.”

 

“Well, neither did _they_.”

 

“Tt” Damian scoffs.

 

Tim can't blame him for feeling this way. Not after everything that's happened, not after they'd had their hopes dashed with Commander Midnighter's assasination which had lost them control of the military, and- as Bruce had always feared- spawned factions within factions.

 

“Will you be staying here? Now that you have a choice?”

 

The question takes Tim by surprise and he's not sure how to answer. It's been years since he's gone anywhere of his own volition. He's been outside the District during the war but only because his skills were needed and the situation was desperate. Most of the time his expertise with engineering had been considered too valuable to risk in the field and he's worked away in the cave making and repairing tech for comabatants in the field.

 

“I don't know.” Tim admits.

 

“Kon's in 1l with Clark still.” Damian remarks and Tim feels his stomach twist.

 

He's come to think of Kon as the almost-love of his life. It felt like they'd just missed each other somehow. That they'd almost been everything to each other but had missed it somehow.

 

After he'd left the Capitol Tim had managed to keep in touch with Kon through the underground networks before they were destroyed, and then through messages sent through Dick until the Capitol had fallen. But it had been a long time since he'd been able to do that.

 

Tim thinks it wasn't so much the separation that had killed what they almost had but the heartbreak he felt when news started to trickle back the Districts that the soldiers who'd taken the Capitol had run rampant and many of those who were seen to support Luthor's Presidency were dragged out of their homes and murdered in the streets.

 

But, he should have realized that Luthor would have anticipated that and never have left his son in danger.

 

It turned out he'd been hiding in 11 the whole time

 

He didn't think he could lose Kon twice without going insane for real this time.

 

“I know you.” Tim answers.

 

“You should go to him.” Damian declares.

 

Tim shrugs. “I think we missed our chance.”

 

Damian huffs and scowls for a moment looking exactly like he had when he was 10 and a terror of a different sort. “Do you want to end up like Father, Drake? You will if you insist of continuing to act like him.”

 

Tim stifled a grin. Damian has a point. Bruce has many wonderful qualities but an ability to foster healthy personal relationships is not one of them.

 

“Go see him at least.” Damian orders and Tim decides to concede the point.

 

“Fine. I haven't actually seen the outer districts when they aren't under gunfire.”

 

Tim considers asking whether Dick is planning to stay in Gotham, but he already knows the answer and Damian had always hated meaningless small talk, and these days that had turned into a more general hatred of meaningless talk of any kind.

 

Dick was back for a short while, just enough time to gather up his people in the circus and to leave again. It was what he'd talked about for years, and they were all surprised he was actually planning to do it.

 

“Any word from Jason?” Tim asks instead. He hasn't heard anything but he's pretty sure Damian is the Red Hood's favourite, so maybe he has.

 

Damian shakes his head. “Not since this armistice was announced. I think he's gone. Left Panem.”

 

Tim nods, it's expected. Jason had never been happy with the moderation of the rebel council's policies, and the treaty with Luthor would inevitably have been a step too far. His would always be a bloodier path, and they should consider themselves lucky he was just quietly slipping back into the shadows rather than openly opposing their new administration.

 

The blood red boogeyman might keep the new administration on their toes for a while at least.

 

“And Cass is going to District 1.” Tim notes.

 

Damian nods.

 

Cass is going to go and try and keep Talia under control. The war had been particularly hard on District 1, caught as it had been between the Capitol and the Districts. Talia had so far mostly followed the rebel line, but with Ra's dead she might get ambitious, and Cass is the only one who can handle her and has the skill set to earn Al Ghul organization's respect.

 

Except Damian, of course, but Damian has never forgiven his mother for some things, and there's no question of his leaving Gotham. If Bruce Wayne was once the Crown Prince of Gotham than his son is the uncrowned Boy King.

 

Damian has somehow stepped into the void of both Red Hood and the Batman. Both the benevolent warlord and the unyielding myth. He's sunk his roots deep into the city and there's nowhere and nothing in the City that Damian doesn't keep an eye on if he can.

 

It's not surprising the city embraced him the way it did. He is a one man army who's been on the front lines of all the Gotham battles since he was 15 years old (14 if you counted the ones where he'd snuck out without permission).

 

So, Damian will stay behind in District 3, while the rest of them move on.

 

Damian's cat Alfred, now old and slightly arthritic ambles up and plonks itself down into the kid's lap. Damian picks it up, his big hands dwarfing it and cuddles it to his chest.

 

“Father was right.” Damian says suddenly. “We haven't made a better world.”

 

Tim stares at him and wishes he could say that he was wrong. But it's true. District 1 is in ruins, District 2 is self-destructing, 4 is starving, The Capitol is a shell of it's former self and on and on. Tim doesn't doubt that all across the nation people are thinking back to the days before the war with misty eyed nostalgia.

 

“We'll you're young. I guess that where you come in.” Tim answers.

 

Damian meets his gaze. “I know.” Damian looks back out over the city again. “You came up here to tell me dinner's ready, didn't you?”

 

Tim nods and they climb down, with Damian still craddling the cat.

 

Dick smiles when they enter the kitchen. He's not so pretty anymore. The Rebel soldiers had no idea he had been working as a double agent the whole time. When they took the Capitol he was one of the one's dragged out of his home. They'd seen him as a traitor since he was a Victor who gave every appearance of supporting Luthor's government. They'd sliced his face up pretty good and might have sliced up more, but Dick had been saved by one of his contacts in Luthor's spy agency

 

The scars weren't properly treated, and the improperly healed muscles in his face twist his smile, which despite all that, somehow still manages to be radiant.

 

He looks at Damian and then back at Tim. Tim can't help but feel that even after all this time, there's still nothing Dick Grayson doesn't know about Damian Wayne.

 

Dick, after all, was the only one who ever seemed to really understand that kid.

 

They eat dinner together, the food not as rich or as plentiful as it would have been before the war and Tim wonders how, if Dick can see Damian's heartbreak as clearly as he can, his oldest brother can still leave.

 

Maybe it's for the same reasons that Tim practically has had to be ordered to go see Kon. He's afraid of what might be different and afraid of what might be the same.

 

 

 

Tim takes the train to District 11, despite Damian's offer of one of the appropriated old peacekeeper trucks.

 

The trains are different these days, crowded and cramped where before they were spacious and elegant. But Tim likes them better this way. It feels more like life. More like the world they'd been hoping to make back when they sabotaged the Capitol's fleet of hovercraft.

 

Tim spies Kon immediately when he steps off the train, though Kon is looking in completey the wrong direction if he's hoping to see Tim, and it make his breath catch at how very young Kon still looks, even though it's Tim whose changed.

 

He slips through the crowd and puts his hand in Kon's, who turns around in surprise.

 

They're eyes meet, Tim holds his breath in hope... and Kon smiles.

  
Maybe Kon won't be the almost-love of Tim's life after all, Tim thinks. Maybe he won't be his _almost_ anything. Maybe this will be something.

 

Tim is tempted to kiss him right there in the crowd at District 11's train station but stops himself. Kon still looks 16. Tim doesn't want to get arrested. The thought makes him chuckle internally.

 

“How have you been?” Kon asks, searching Tim's face.

 

“I've been better.” Tim replies, threading their fingers together. “But at least the war is over.”   
  


Kon grins at him. “I hear that.”

 

The walk back to The Kent's farm hand in hand.

 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of the line, and I'd like to thanks every one who made it to the end. 
> 
> In that spirit, I'm offering to take some requests for this verse. If there is a specific scene that you were hoping to see and would like to request drop me a line, and I will try and deliver. 
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you for your comments and cheerleading over the last month. I think this is the fic that I'm most proud of.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm back and this fic is weird and long and writing it felt like fighting the many headed-hydra of legend. But, whatever. 
> 
> Sorry this fic is a bit slow in starting. I hope the beginning isn't confusing. I did write an alternate opening where they discussed when they were up to but I thought this was more fun. 
> 
> Also, this fic focuses much more on the actions in terms of revolution and rebellion rather than on individual characters and their relationships so don't say I didn't warn you. Fic is finished I'm just editing and polishing chapters. So, the next one will be up soon.


End file.
